Did You?
by jetta-monkey
Summary: Some swearing, so it's R. First time author, would really appreciate some help and feedback with this; is it worth carrying on?


> > **_Disclaimer thingie [I've no idea if you're meant to put one up or not but all the fics I've read so far have had one]: I don't own Harry Potter._**
> 
> _Erm, this is my first fanfic, any help at all would be much appreciated. If anyone wants to try co writing it with me or anything, just email me. I'm kinda bad at writing in general; specifically plotlines._
> 
> _Oh, also, if I know you [and your alias is mirvinmonkey] can you stop reading right now please, its none of your business. I'm grateful for all feedback…_
> 
> _In fact I'd be grateful to know if anybody thinks its worth working on or not. I sort of had a plot when I started out, but I've not got much faith in it. Hehe, right, thanks in advance to anybody who bothers reading/reviewing it._

* * *

Black night all around, velvet enclosing and softly enveloping him. Alert eyes strained in vain against the oppressive darkness, ears twitched and he poised on the balls of his feet, ready to move at an instant.

An owl hooted softly in the dark above him, breaking the soft running sound of water and night insects chattering. He jumped in alarm, his pupils swallowing his iris nearly completely, and if there had been enough light to see him by, a viewer would have seen sharp white teeth bared in a soundless snarl.

A small squeak nearby prompted his claws to extend involuntarily, and he crouched, at one with the darkness, every sense so attuned with his surroundings that he moved automatically with the wind, the slight rustling sound of the leaves disturbed by the wind masking the slight noise of his own padded steps.

He crouched, feeling the blackness wash over him as the sharp scent of the mouse reached his nose, his muscles tensed iron as he finally located his prey. Sharp eyes watched the mouse scurrying beneath a leaf, and in a single molten moment in which everything hung suspended in midair he sprang, every tendon in his body stretching out and out and out...

The adrenaline rush faded and he ignored the squirming of the mouse beneath him for a moment, attempting to capture in his mind forever the feel of the hunt, the feel of the chase and of living.

It faded even as he reached out and grasped it, evaporating like water from a dying mans hand in a desert. A sigh, and then his head bowed, jaws open and a trickle of saliva trickling down from the corner of his mouth, eager for the rich red taste of its flesh. Something was wrong though, the mouse seemed to be squeaking louder and lou-

"-rry, wake up for the love of Merlin! Light, but you're a sound sleeper. It's Halloween tomorrow, AND first match vs Slytherin of the season, reckon you'll oversleep for that? Hah. Ohhhhh c'mon, we can't be late for Divination twice in a row, even Trelawney will have to give us a detention for that..."

"Wstfgl", Harry said indistinctly from beneath a pillow, shying away from the light as Ron opened his curtains, feeling slight surprise at the feel of his curled fingers pressed against the goose-feather mattress instead of claws sinking deep into the feathers.

"No, it's already half an hour into breakfast time. What, do you WANT a detention with Filch now or something?"

"Urgh", Harry groaned, reluctantly removing the pillow from his face and sitting up, shivering under the duvet.

"Ok ok ok, I'm up now. You go ... have a shower or something. Look nice for Hermione."

Ron blushed slightly at the thought of his dark-haired girlfriend, and hurriedly disappeared in the direction of the 5th Years bathroom.

Harry smirked to himself as he forced himself out of his bed and pulled on a light pair of pants and a t-shirt.

Ron had finally plucked up the courage to ask Hermione out, and had been dizzyingly euphoric ever since her rather amused acceptance, sometimes staring at her for hours with his mouth open and an expression of intense surprise on his face at her every action.

Harry snickered at the memory of their last exchange on the topic;

_"Ron, she's not going to turn into a blast-ended skrewt if you take your eyes off her for a second you know,' slight exasperation had coloured Harry's tone as he finally lost patience with his friend, who was clearly not paying any attention at all the game of chess before them. _

_Ron had looked affronted. "I am NOT staring Harry," he said vehemently, and glared at Harry and Deans' carefully blank expressions. "I do not," he added again quietly, as his eyes returning to the girl who was engrossed in her homework, "stare at ... her...". His voice trailed off. Harry and Dean had been unable to keep the smiles from their faces._

"And I do NOT stare at her!" An outraged if barely audible voice floated through the air to Harry, as if its owner had read his mind.

"Course not Ron," he yelled amicably in the general direction of the showers, pulling his robes over his head and grabbing his bag from his bedside. "But hurry up would you? I'm ready, and if we don't go now we won't get any breakfast at all."

Four minutes later saw the pair of them ensconced in their usual positions in the fast-emptying Gryffindor table, desperately shoving food into their mouths, with Hermione standing impatiently next to them.

"Honestly Harry, you are hopeless sometimes. You get just as much sleep as the rest of us, why on earth is it always you who always oversleeps?" Hermione demanded, tapping her foot and running a hand through her thick hair in an attempt to detangle it slightly.

"Dunno really," Harry replied as expressionlessly and casually as he could manage.

The dreams of animal violence which he'd been having every few days ever since he had blacked out in Potions a few days ago were ones he'd rather not share with his friends than have them forcing him to go to Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore.

They weren't even particularly bad, he justified to himself inwardly, far better than the dreams of Cedric or Voldemort. They just seemed to exhaust him rather than rejuvenate him, as normal sleep did.

He yawned through the last of his cornflakes, and wandered off dazedly after Ron and Hermione, who were shyly holding hands and leading the way to Divination, the first lesson of Monday morning for the Gryffindors.

It was none of their business anyway. The dreams were a private part of Harry, the part of him which reveled in flying high into a grey sky, leaves swirling all around him, and the part of him which sung as magic ran through his veins.

He wondered absently whether he'd manage to stay awake through Divination today.

Halloween dawned bright the next day, a soft rosy dawn with a few streaks of grey clouds marring the pale blue of the morning sky.

Harry glanced up as he assessed the visibility and shivered slightly – it was freezing.

It was the day of the Quidditch match which Harry had been looking forward to so much ever since a certain pale sly blonde Slytherin had emptied an entire bottle of ink into Harry's bag during a Potion lesson a few days ago.

The Gryffindor was going to enjoy humiliating Slytherin today very much indeed and fully intended to rub Malfoy's face in it.

Of course there was no question of Gryffindor winning, not with Harry as seeker and one of the strongest teams the house had seen in several years.

He followed the rest of his team into the changing room, glad that he hadn't had one of his Animal Dreams, as he was coming to privately think of them as, last night. He needed to be as wide awake as he could now.

He shrugged on his robes and half-listened to the pep talk Oliver Wood gave them as he ran through their strategy one last time in his mind before stepping back out into the cold.

The sky was really red, he noticed as Marcus Flint attempted to pulverize Wood's hand.

_Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning_, a little voice in the back of his head childishly chanted.

It was lost, however, in the flash of hatred that shot through him, roiling his stomach as he met Malfoy's sneering eyes across on the other side of the pitch.

His hands subconsciously tightened around his broomstick as he waited tensely for the whistle to blow so he could take off.

He felt as alive as ever he had before in one of his dreams, he realized in surprise.

A wind whipped around his robes as the whistle sounded, and he kicked off, adrenaline rushing in a trickle then in a rush as he circled the pitch, flexing the muscles he used in flight and feeling like crying out in sheer joy at the rush of emotions he experienced as he flew.

He slightly reluctantly flew down slightly, vaguely remembering the snitch, and from behind the sound of his blood rushing through him he heard a cheer from the Gryffindor stand as they scored the first goal of the match.

It reached through to him, past the wall of adrenaline and wild energy buffeting him from his fellow students on the pitch, and tugged at him slightly, remind him more forcefully of his task.

Malfoy was circling the other end of the pitch, and Harry's stomach clenched as his determination to win doubled.

He flew upwards slightly, completely ignoring the surge of excitement he felt at the added danger and height now as he searched for the snitch.

Another roar told him Gryffindor had scored yet again, and he risked a glance towards Malfoy and a smirk. _May the best team win_ he thought gleefully, and dropped back a bit to better watch the game.

Suddenly his stomach dropped as he saw Malfoy go into a sharp dive, wind rush blowing his rather long blond hair back. Harry desperately threw himself flat onto his broom and soared downwards, feeling his stomach lurch further as he saw just how close Malfoy was to the snitch.

A thousand thoughts raced through his head;

_Why did I pick just that time to start daydreaming – _

-       Malfoy's hand extended

_Oliver's going to fucking kill me – _

-       Pale fingers flexed and spread out

_Draco's going to be so utterly insufferable –_

 - Milk white fingertips brushed and triumphantly captured the winged gold ball as a roar went up from the Slytherin stand, drowning the cries of dismay from Gryffindor flooding into Harry's stomach to mingle and curdle the bitter feeling of disappointment and disbelief as he met Malfoy's triumphant gaze.

"Look Malfoy, just piss off why don't you," Harry snapped irritably as the slightly taller blond boy jeered at him from the doorway of the Gryffindor changing room.

It was deserted apart from them as Harry had stayed in the shower after the match until the rest of his team, disheartened and at the same time determined to console their seeker, had given up and left him to his moping.

Draco had appeared shortly afterwards, and had been winding Harry up for the past ten minutes, buoyed up on the sweet taste of victory.

"You're not even allowed in here," Harry said warningly, "If Filch catches you you're a dead man."   
  
Malfoy amused sneer solidified into a laugh at the idea of the caretaker finding him there.

"If he does leave his precious castle, Potter, no doubt it will be to congratulate me on my glorious victory against the Gryffindor's Golden Boy."

"Look, how else can I put this. Just go away. Yes, yes you've won, now get over it. I'm really not in the mood for you."  
  
"My Potter, touchy aren't we? Are you ever actually 'In the mood for me' as you put it?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the somewhat unsubtle double-entendre.

"I've heard stories about you and the Mudblood," Draco continued, "You wouldn't want to make her jealous now would you, understandable though it would be at the sight of my gorgeous body?"

Malfoy pulled a grotesque face and said in a high pitched voice, "Harry, oh Harry, you never told me you were ga-"  
  
A beaters bat forced Draco to cut off his impression of Hermione and hurriedly dodge behind the wooden door.

"Get a clue Malfoy, Ron and Hermione have been going out for at least three weeks now. I know you're wrapped up in your own little Dark Wizard come Death Eater world, but surely you're not all that incredibly dense. Or has your father abused you so much now that you're actually incapable of any thought whatsoever?"  
  
Draco's grey eyes narrowed. "Don't insult my father, Potter. At least he wasn't stupid enough to get himself kill-"  
  
Another beater's bat cut him off and he had to dodge behind the heavy oak door again.

When he judged it safe and gingerly stuck his head back out of it, he nearly tripped over the two bats as he jumped backwards. Harry's eyes glinted coldly as Malfoy backed away.   
  
"How the fuck did you get so close," Draco mumbled half to himself, grey eyes widening slightly and hair standing on end at the amount of energy Harry seemed to be giving off.

Harry's body seemed to be the most… real… thing Draco had ever seen, somehow more solid than the wall behind him, and infinitely more threatening.

He forced his eyes upwards, past the under-developed stomach (how he managed NOT to form some sort of toned physique with the amount of quidditch he played was absolutely beyond Draco), thin neck, pointed face, until he met Harry's eyes and felt a sudden chill.

They were pitiless and slightly curious; reminding him suddenly of the time he had watched his mother's cat release a mouse from beneath her claws again and again merely to see how many times it would attempt to escape.

He backed away cautiously, a thrill running through him at the sight of such cold, wild eyes, waiting.

And then abruptly Harry was Harry again, no longer threatening, no longer vicious, merely tired and foolish looking, his hair sticking up at ridiculous angles after the swift drying he had given it when he had got out of the shower, his skinny body inspiring a dozen vicious comments rather than fear.

Malfoy's lips curled upwards and he spat at Harry's feet before turning and walking back towards the castle. He felt slightly disgusted at himself for thinking of Potter with anything but hatred, but intrigued at the potential he thought he had just seen.

A nature as turbulent and wild as that perhaps belonged to a person very different from the Harry he thought he knew.

Dull green eyes watched him go expressionlessly.

Draco meandered into a small classroom near the front of the castle, his mind still on Potter in the changing rooms.

He had, he decided honestly to himself, been strangely attracted to the boy at a certain point in their exchange, namely when he had found himself pinned under the Gryffindor's feral cruel eyes, which were somehow full of energy and emotion.

Draco could have sworn he actually felt heat radiating off the smaller boy, and his hair had stood on end.

He lazily seated himself on a wooden chest as his thoughts continued to race around his and Potter's stand-off. The room he was in had a very soft slightly rose coloured light coming in from the fairly high stained windows he was sat under, contrastingly nicely with the dark wood. The sun was up in earnest now, brighter light making the room seem to glow.

The dark green blackboard seemed strangely out of place; an impression accentuated by the slight smell of dried rose petals which lay in walnut-wood bowl, and the odor of a single living red rose in a rather plain glass vase, both of which were on the windowsill above the heavy wooden chest which Draco was stretched out on.

He noticed a spider spinning a web between the chest and the windowsill, which added a perfect touch to the room and increased the surreal effect in some indefinable way.

A sudden flash of colour put a stop to his racing thoughts of the Boy who Lived, and he turned his head just in time to catch sight of some sort of red-gold butterfly perched on the glowing wood of a desk in the sunlight.

He sneezed as the rose petal scent tickled his nose, wondering in surprise how a butterfly had managed to find its way into the castle.

Potter though… What had changed him from being a short, skinny, rather ugly little brat to … well, admittedly still a short skinny rather ugly little brat, but one with magnetism?

Of course, Draco did find the sheer energy Harry had emitted incredibly fascinating. He himself found it near impossible to summon animal vitality the way Harry had, his nature being far more suited to lazy casual cruelty with the occasional bout of hatred thrown in, but he could certainly appreciate the draw it gave the dark-haired boy. However the mere thought of Harry's sickeningly goody-goody attitude was enough to turn Draco's stomach and quiet the memory of the strange mesmeric sensation he had felt for the other boy.

He must have been mistaken, the euphoria of the match and after-effects of the rush of victory he had experienced must have deceived him.

Perhaps one of the beater's bats had hit him? Draco frowned and reached long slender fingers up to toy with the rose above him as he thought. No, no, no he'd definitely have noticed being hit on the head with a cast-iron bat. It had definitely been the comedown after winning.

A smile broke through his frown as he remembered the cheers of the Slytherin crowd as he had caught the snitch in a magnificent breath taking dive.

Slight surprised marred his otherwise perfect ice-cold features as he gazed down at his lap.

He had absent mindedly pulled the red rose apart and its petals were scattered all around him, a circle of red.

He shrugged and pulled his wand out from his pocket, and stunned the butterfly, whose constant fluttering was beginning to irritate him.

It spiraled downwards and landed somewhere in the mess of red petals below him. He sighed and walked out of the room, casually crushing the petals and the butterfly beneath his feet as he did so, deciding to go find Pansy Parkinson to find out what he had missed in the Care of Magical Creatures lesson he had skived yesterday.

A sudden empty feeling jolted him and made him turn back and look at the room, at the once-beautiful now-destroyed rose and at the dead butterfly in the previously flawless glowing room.

He wondered vaguely whether he should be feeling any sadness or remorse. He bit his lip; such introspection was very un-Malfoyish.

He walked out without bothering to close the door and shrugged uneasily as though he could feel the green eyes still watching him from the changing room.

* * *

> _Ok well... let me know what you think i spose. _


End file.
